


The Way to a Man’s Heart is Through Christmas

by violue



Series: Cupcakes and Chlamydia [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Barebacking, Bottom Castiel, Bottom Dean, Christmas Fluff, Consensual Somnophilia, M/M, Mild Angst, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Top Castiel, Top Dean, but no Chlamydia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-08 21:15:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5513555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violue/pseuds/violue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's first Christmas with Castiel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Way to a Man’s Heart is Through Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> About a gazillion thanks to [Dani](http://warkitt3nz.tumblr.com/) for beta'ing this for me. I feel so much better posting something when I know someone's gone through it and checked for oopsies.
> 
> This takes place between chapter 30 and the epilogue of the main story, so Dean and Castiel aren't engaged yet.

**(December 22nd, 2014)**

Dean is pacing his living room, casting angry glances at the man watching him from the couch. The man is calm, hands folded in his lap, expression fairly neutral. His hair is a wreck from a day spent sweating in his shop’s kitchen, and his hot pink “Angel Cakes” t-shirt is covered in patches of flour and powdered sugar. He’s in need of a shower, but instead he’s on the couch, _ruining_ Dean’s day.

“I can’t believe he came and talked to you at your _store,_ ” Dean growls, still pacing.

Castiel shrugs from his place on the couch. “He wanted to make amends.”

“He smashed your car for being my boyfriend, Cas. To some people that’s a hate crime.”

“Yes, I remember. I was there.”

“And yet here you are, pleading his case.”

“I’m not pleading anything, Dean. I’m just telling you what your father told me. I want you to consider working things out, because family is important to you, and he is your family. He’s remorseful for his actions, and he wants to spend the holiday with his loved ones. _All_ of his loved ones.”

“Well that’s too fucking bad!” Dean shouts. Castiel’s expression sours, then. Outside of the bedroom, Castiel abhors yelling. “Don’t give me that look. I’m allowed to be mad about this.”

“Yes, you are. That doesn’t mean I appreciate being yelled at.”

“I’m not yelling _at_ you. I’m yelling near you. There’s a difference.”

Castiel narrows his eyes. “Haven’t we had this conversation before?”

Dean sighs, some of the tension draining out of him. “Yeah, probably. I yell a lot, I’m sorry.”

“I will graciously choose to forgive you.”

Dean starts to smile, then remembers why he was yelling in the first place and frowns some more. “I don’t want him here, Cas. Do you remember how I spent my Thanksgiving?”

Castiel sighs. “Yes, I—”

“Let me recap. My extended family was all happy and full of love, eating a giant turkey at Sam’s place. And where was I?”

“You were h—”

“I was _here,_ hosting my boyfriend’s family. Seven Adlers, two Novaks, and _one_ Winchester. Oh, and a cat that spent the day hiding under our bed.”

“Dean, you don’t have to remind me, I was th—”

“Your mother alternated between being super nice to me and criticizing _everything_ in our home, Lucifer and Michael wouldn’t stop making snide remarks about each other, Gabriel _broke_ the TV remote, and do you know how many times Ion quoted the bible to me to convince me that I was a sinning sinner full of sin? _Seventeen times,_ Cas.”

“Gabriel replaced the remote,” Castiel mumbles.

“Those were eight of the _longest,_ most stressful hours of my god damned life, and do you remember what you told me when it was over?”

“ _Yes,_ Dean, I kn—”

“You said that Christmas was _mine,_ ” Dean says, throwing his hands up in frustration, “that we could do whatever I wanted, and we wouldn’t invite anyone I didn’t want here.”

“I know that, Dean. I’m just relaying your father’s wish—”

“I already had a shit Thanksgiving, I’m not having a shit Christmas. And in order to not have a shit Christmas, I _cannot_ have my dad here. It’s great that he’s so apologetic that he’s resorted to stalking my boyfriend, but I don’t want to see him, Cas. Not yet. John Winchester is a problem for me to tackle next year.” Dean finally stops pacing and Castiel stands, walking over and taking his hands.

“Dean, I’m on your side. I barely like some of my siblings, but when I brought them back into my life, it felt like a weight had been lifted. I hate to think of you having that same weight I once carried.”

“Right now, having him around would _cause_ that weight, okay?”

“Okay, Dean. It’s okay,” Castiel mutters, raising Dean’s hands to kiss them. “I’m sorry for making you feel pressured to confront a situation you’re not ready to deal with. I’m on your side, I promise.”

Dean sighs at the feeling of soft, dry lips pressing against his hands. “I know you’re on my side, Cas. I know you just want everything to be cake and rainbows. This year all I want is a small, quiet Christmas. My parents can spend Christmas with Bobby and the Harvelles, Gabriel can spend the day terrorizing all the Adlers, and here at this house I just want you, me, Ezekiel, Sam, and Jess. And pie. Made by you.”

Dean knows it’s not just Castiel he’s trying to convince, it’s himself. He’s glad that John is a saintly saint overcoming his homophobia through chats with a shrink and Mary Winchester’s infinite patience, but he’s not ready to forgive and forget. He spent _years_ denying a part of who he was because of the way his father acted, all that hurt doesn’t go away just because John is pulling his head out of his ass. He feels guilty that he can’t forgive his father, when Castiel forgave an entire family full of assholes.

He’s not quite crying, but his eyes are a little watery. Castiel looks a little heartbroken at the sight of him.

“If that’s what you want, that’s what we’ll have,” Castiel says gently, wrapping his arms around Dean. “It’s alright, Dean.”

“Later, okay?” Dean says, the words muffled as he buries his face in Castiel’s neck. “I’ll talk to him some other time. I swear.”

“Come on,” Castiel says, pulling away. “I’ve had a long day at the shop, I could use some help washing the molasses out of my hair.”

Dean lets out a pitiful sniffle, wiping his eyes with the back of one hand while Castiel takes the other hand and pulls him toward the bathroom.

  
  


*

  
  


Not much time passes before they’re in the shower, enveloped in a cloud of steam. Castiel is plastered against Dean’s back, fucking into him with slow, deep thrusts. His fingers are tangled with Dean’s, pressed against the shower wall, knuckles white with tension.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers in Dean’s ear. Dean shudders, dick twitching against his stomach. Castiel’s cock is making contact with a rather sensitive gland in Dean’s body, and it’s making it hard for Dean to really understand what the fuck Castiel is talking about.

“What?”

“I just wanted to apologize again,” Castiel says, voice shaky but earnest. He releases Dean’s left hand, fingers drifting down to Dean’s chest, his stomach, lower…

“Cas, we really don’t need to talk about this right now,” Dean pants.

“I know, but I… I hate that I upset you.”

“You didn’t upset me, the situation upset me. And you’re making it up to me.” Dean grabs Castiel’s wandering hand, pushing it down toward his neglected dick. “Make it up to me, Cas.”

Dean feels Castiel nod behind him, and then the thrusts turn sharper. Dean cries out, foot knocking against the forgotten bottle of lube on the shower floor as he moves to a position with more balance. He can feel Castiel’s teeth just barely pressing between his neck and shoulder, and a hot rush of adrenaline goes rocketing through him. Castiel bites down and Dean jerks forward, moaning loud at the sharp pain.

“Good?” Castiel asks quietly, teeth dislodging from Dean’s skin. His hand is wrapped around Dean’s dick now, stroking in a counter-rhythm to his thrusts. Dean will never not be impressed by this guy’s sexual multitasking abilities.

“Uh huh,” Dean says, because that’s all the effort he’s willing to put into talking right now. There are more important things to focus on; Castiel’s hand twisting its way up Dean’s dick, the teeth biting down harder in the same tender spot, the filthy slick drag of Castiel inside him.

He closes his eyes, giving himself over to the myriad of sensations until he’s chanting Castiel’s name and coming hard, body shaking, voice cracking. Castiel pushes up hard one last time, coming inside Dean with something that sounds like a cross between a whimper and a snarl.

They stand there for at least three minutes, Castiel leaning against Dean, Dean leaning against the wall, and the shower battering their bodies with slowly cooling water. Castiel finally pulls away and Dean turns to face him, grinning.

“You still have molasses in your hair.”

  
  


*

  
  


**(December 25th, 2014)**

Dean’s startled awake by the sound of his own groaning, eyes snapping open and locking onto Castiel’s.

“Wha…” he trails off, taking stock of the situation as he grows more awake. Dean is on his back, the blankets on the bed are shoved to the side, and Castiel is in his lap. Naked, save for a Santa hat.

“Merry Christmas, Dean,” Castiel says quietly, cheerfully. He shifts his hips slightly, and Dean groans again. Oh. Castiel isn’t just in Dean’s lap, Dean’s dick is in his ass. He wraps his hands around Castiel’s hips, thumbs rubbing at the appetizing tan skin in front of him.

“Well Merry fuckin’ Christmas to you too, baby,” Dean says, giving his hips an experimental roll, and grinning at the way Castiel’s eyes briefly flutter closed. “Love waking up like this, _fuck._ ” He holds onto Castiel a little tighter, thrusting up again.

“I know you do,” Castiel replies, one thumb rubbing against Dean’s nipple in a way that makes a slow, giddy shudder roll through his body. Castiel lifts up slowly, coming back down at the same time Dean thrusts up and they both moan softly. It’s early in the day, and Dean’s just barely woken up, it seems like quiet is the way to go.

They build up a rhythm easily, warm bodies fitting together perfectly and working in unison towards their peak. Quick, but unhurried, quiet, but not silent. After a while Dean finally sits up so he can kiss his boyfriend, grinning at the candy cane taste of Castiel’s mouth.

“Surprised you don’t have a bow tied around your dick,” Dean mutters, working a hand between them to wrap around Castiel’s cock.

“I tried that.” Castiel’s voice is a little breathless now, Dean loves it. “But I couldn’t get the bow to look right and I started to get impatient.”

“And you didn’t even take a picture for me?”

Castiel smirks and leans forward, wrapping his arms around Dean’s neck. “Check your phone.”

Dean bites his lip, keeping one arm around Castiel while he reaches over to the nightstand. There’s a text from Castiel and sure enough, it’s a dick shot with a cute, crooked ribbon tied around Castiel’s hard cock.

“Fuck I fuckin’ love you,” Dean growls, dropping his phone on the bed and pulling Castiel down into a hard thrust. He starts to stroke Castiel, wanting him to be close, because he’s getting close already.

“ _Dean_ ,” Castiel whines, clinging tighter.

“Yeah, Cas, come on.”

All of a sudden Dean hears a thump, and like it’s happening in slow motion, the doorknob turns and the door flies open.

“Wakey, wake— FUCK. FUCK FUCK NO **JESUS FUCKING FUCK** NOT AGAIN!” Sam is screaming, tripping over his own feet and slamming the bedroom door closed. Dean hears Sam running down the stairs, cursing up a storm.

He looks at Castiel, whose eyes are wide in horror, cheeks stained red.

“I can’t believe that just happened,” Dean groans. “ _Again_.”

“I’m not taking any responsibility for this. He should know by now not to come barging into our room just because he has a key to the house,” Castiel says, glaring towards the door.

Dean licks his lips, looking at the door, then down at where his hand is still wrapped around Castiel’s erection. “Should we uh… stop?”

“Do you _want_ to stop?”

“I mean… stopping won’t change what just happened, so…”

Castiel nods in agreement, arms tightening around Dean again. “Then make us come, so we can get cleaned up and go console your brother.”

Dean gets back to it, working quickly to get them back to where they were before being so horribly interrupted. Unfortunately, while fucking Castiel faster moves things along quicker, it also makes them both louder. Within a couple of minutes Castiel is screaming his way through an orgasm, and Dean hears the front door slam as Sam presumably vacates the house entirely.

  
  


*

  
  


After a quick shower, Castiel goes to the spare bedroom to get Sam’s present ready, while Dean goes outside to fetch his brother.

Sam is bundled up and out in the yard. Dean’s never seen a sulking giant build a small snowman before, but it’s a pretty hilarious sight. He tries to school his face into something less sardonic as he approaches Sam, and judging by Sam’s glare he doesn’t succeed.

“I need kitten therapy,” Sam grouses.

“Well I didn’t see Ezekiel when I got up, so I’m assuming the screaming sasquatch sent her into hiding,” Dean says with a shrug. Sam’s glare becomes even more menacing. “Don’t look at me like that, you were supposed to be here at eleven. It’s not even ten yet.”

“Well,” Sam grumbles, angrily packing snow for the snowman’s torso, “Jess was keeping my present at Mom and Dad’s, so I came here while she went to get it.”

“And you didn’t think you should maybe call, or ring the doorbell?”

“I thought it would be funny to scare you awake, you usually sleep late on your days off.”

“Well if you’re expecting to get sympathy from me, you’re shit out of luck. You were hoping to come scare the fuck out of me and instead you got to witness a natural and beautiful act.”

“I hate you.”

Dean grins, patting Sam on the cheek. “I’m going to get brunch started, you can sit out here and pout until your wife gets here, if you want.”

“I hate you!”

  
  


*

  
  


Jess doesn’t bat an eye when she shows up with a large wrapped present and Sam starts wailing about his recent trauma.

“Come on, Sam, why wouldn’t you call? That’s rookie shit,” she says, carefully placing Sam’s gift with the others by the tree.

Their Christmas tree is a bit chaotic. There are decorations from Castiel’s old stuff, decorations from Dean’s old stuff, decorations Mary brought over last week, plus lights, tinsel, strings of popcorn, strings of cranberries, garland, and a very traditional golden angel at the top. None of it matches, and it looks like someone vomited Christmas onto a tree, but Dean had still taken a ton of photos of it when they set it up earlier this month. It’s a massive eyesore, and Dean loves it dearly. There’s a pile of presents under the tree, though most of them are for people they won’t be seeing today.

After brunch the four of them sit by the tree, ready to exchange gifts. Dean’s pretty sure he saw the gift Jess got for Sam twitch or something. He looks closer, noticing the holes subtly cut into the box. He grimaces. He probably should have run his and Castiel’s gift for Sam by her first.

Jess receives a ridiculously soft sweater from Dean (so soft Dean kept touching the sweater after he bought it, wishing it were in his size), a diamond pendant from Sam, and a pretty elaborate scrapbooking kit from Castiel.

“You remembered!” Jess squeals, pulling Castiel into a hug. Dean and Sam trade slightly surprised looks. Remembered what? Do Castiel and Jess have conversations? Are they friends? Do they talk about scrapbooking? Holy shit, Dean is unobservant. He thought Castiel chose that gift at random.

After Jess, it’s Dean’s turn to get his gifts. He receives a pricey new toolkit from Sam and Jess, which is awesome because Dean’s home toolbox is full of random old tools from the garage. From Castiel he receives…

“What uh… what is it?” Dean says, looking down at the massive ball of plaid he pulls out of his gift box.

Castiel shrugs. “Open it.”

“I thought I _did_ open it,” Dean says. He unfolds the plaid shirt wrapped around the gift to reveal… another plaid shirt in another color. And another shirt. And another. Until Dean has a pile of ten new shirts next to him and an action figure in his hand. An action figure of... himself. The small Dean is wearing jeans, brown boots, a black t-shirt, and a leather jacket. He’s holding what looks like a tiny Swiss army knife in one hand, and he has a smirk that very much resembles the real thing.

“Obviously I didn’t make this myself,” Castiel says, fidgeting. “There are places to get them made. Um… I know the bear thing isn’t exactly a good memory for either of us, but you tried to take that bear on. With a Swiss army knife. For _me._ On the heroic side, in my opinion.”

Dean wipes away the stray tear in the corner of his eye. “I love it, Cas. This is fucking cool as shit, my inner child is going nuts right now. Hell, so is my inner adult. I’m an _action figure_!”

“You really like it?”

“Yes, and I hope you love me enough to not make fun of me if you ever come home and catch me playing with this,” Dean says, snapping a photo of it with his phone. “All that’s missing is a Cas figure so I can make them do gay shit together.”

Castiel chuckles, passing Dean another package. “I thought you might say that.”

Dean grins, excitedly ripping open the package. Sure enough, there’s a Castiel action figure inside, this one dressed in jeans, a grey t-shirt, and a cupcake patterned apron. “This is so fucking awesome, Cas.”

Dean turns to Sam, who is looking longingly at the action figures. “I’m sure Cas will tell you where he got these made, Sam.”

Sam looks up at Castiel, puppy eyes activated. “You will, right?”

Castiel nods. “Of course, Sam.”

Dean’s debating taking the clothes off the figures to see how anatomically correct they are when Sam clears his throat.

“It’s Cas’ turn, Dean.”

“Oh, right. Other people,” Dean says. He’s feeling a little unexcited about the gift he got for Castiel now. These figures are awesome, and probably spendy. Plus they were wrapped in brand new shirts.

Sam and Jess pass their gift to Castiel, and it looks heavy. It’s a twenty-piece cookware set, and the items look much better than the battered and scratched shit they’ve been using since they moved in.

“This is… wonderful,” Castiel says, sighing happily.

“Does this mean we can throw out those non-stick pans that have all the coating scratched to hell?” Dean says hopefully.

Castiel chuckles and nods. “I think we can get rid of everything but my cast iron pans. I can’t wait to show you how to properly flip an egg, Dean,” he says, pointing to the small pan in the set.

Dean passes his two wrapped gifts to Castiel, chewing his lip nervously. “Okay, well open this one first,” he says, poking the lighter of the two.

Castiel obliges, carefully unwrapping the box and eyes going wide when he opens it and sees what’s inside. “This is highly inappropriate,” he says, grinning over at Dean.

“Well now you _have_ to show us,” Jess says.

“Unless it’s a vibrator or something,” Sam interjects.

“ _Especially_ if it’s a vibrator.”

Castiel lifts the cream colored pillow out of the box, showing Sam and Jess where Dean painstakingly embroidered the words “I’d fuck you in the waiting room of a funeral parlor” in a fancy script. There are flowers and vines embroidered on it as well, because Dean had decided it needed more pizazz.

“Dude, you’re messed up,” Sam says, eyeing the pillow.

“Dean said this exact sentence to me the night we met,” Castiel says proudly, “and I had joked it was so romantic that I’d love to have it embroidered on a pillow. Did you do this yourself?”

Dean blushes. “Yeah. My mom taught me. Laughed herself sick when I told her what I wanted to put on the pillow, too.”

“Aww, how come you never get me romantic gifts like that, Sam?” Jess says, nudging her husband. Sam glares.

“So you want me to take that three hundred dollar necklace back?”

Jess puts her hand over where the pendant is resting on her chest. “Stay back! This is _mine_.”

Castiel unwraps the much, much larger present. “Dean!” he exclaims, pulling the large painting out of the box.

“Don’t tell me he made that too,” Sam says.

Dean rolls his eyes. The painting is of a matador, body broken and sprawled out on the blood soaked dirt while a bull stands over it on its hind legs, triumphant over its kill.

“Okay don’t tell me you think _that’s_ romantic,” Sam says to Jess.

“Quit heckling my gifts,” Dean says, reaching out and flicking Sam hard on the ear.

“Is this a… replica?” Castiel says, smiling down at the absolutely horrible painting.

Dean shakes his head. “Nah, turns out the motel owner paints them himself. I bought it from him.”

“I love it, Dean,” Castiel says, leaning over to give Dean a quick kiss.

“Come on, you have to explain this,” Jess says, gesturing at the vividly colored monstrosity.

“This is from the night we met as well,” Castiel says cheerfully. “Our room at the Matador Motel had an array of horrific and off-putting paintings, but this one really caught my eye.”

“You can hang that anywhere but the bedroom,” Dean says. After a moment he adds, “or anywhere in view of where we eat.”

“I think I might hang this in my office at the shop,” Castiel says. “Ohh, Gabriel’s going to love this painting.”

And then it’s Sam’s turn. He’s eyeing the two large boxes bearing his name with interest. He unwraps the one from Dean and Castiel first, unwrapping the paper, pulling the lid off the box, and letting out a supersonic squeal when he sees the sleeping grey kitten inside. Jess makes an odd sound as well, putting a hand over her mouth.

“Holy shit!” Sam exclaims. The kitten opens one yellow eye, looking at Sam briefly and going back to sleep. The thing is incredibly laid back, that was why Dean picked her, actually. “Oh my god, you guys. Thank you. This is awesome. Look, Jess!” Sam says excitedly, like a little kid. Dean feels his heart slowly turning to mush at the joy on his brother’s face. Jess looks troubled, though, and Dean’s already guessed why.

“You should um, open your gift from me real quick,” she says, grimacing. Sam’s too keyed up to notice though, and just nods and opens her gift.

“HOLY FUCKING SHIT!” Sam practically shrieks, reaching in the box to pluck out a squirming grey kitten with white paws. Dean actually recognizes that kitten. He and Jess apparently answered the same posting on Craigslist. Sam looks back and forth between everyone, then down at the kitten in his hands, then over at the other box. “This wasn’t planned, was it.”

“We can take one back?” Jess says, even though that’s probably not an option.

Sam recoils. “Are you nuts? This is fate! You both got me grey kittens!”

“Fate, or Jess and I saw the same ad online from a woman with spayed and vaccinated kittens to unload,” Dean says. “They’re sisters.”

“All the more reason for me to keep both. They should be together!” Sam says, setting the grey and white kitten in with her sister. She immediately bats at her sleeping sister’s ear, and within seconds the two are rolling around in the box, tussling.

“Awwww,” Dean and Jess say in unison.

“I’m so happy I might actually start crying,” Sam says, taking photos with his phone.

“Man, it’s going to suck trying to find a litter box for your house on _Christmas,_ ” Dean says, watching Sam and Jess coo over the new additions to their family.

“Oh man, I can’t wait to go shopping for cat stuff!” Sam says. He’s smiling so wide Dean wouldn’t be surprised if it was hurting the guy’s face.

  
  


*

  
  


The end of the day comes. Sam and Jess have taken their new joys Tessa and Billie home, the leftovers from Christmas dinner have been shoved in the fridge, and Ezekiel is somewhere downstairs playing with the catnip mice Castiel got her for Christmas. Dean and Castiel lie in bed, each holding their action figure counterparts and giggling like schoolchildren while they force the toys to kiss.

“Today was great, Cas,” Dean says sleepily, eyes still on the toy Dean and Castiel.

Castiel moves his toy’s arms so they’re sticking out, making it hug the Dean toy. “I had a wonderful day, I’m glad we had such a small, intimate gathering.”

“Yeah. I love being around a big group of loved ones too, but I’ve had a lot of big gatherings this year, and we’ve got the New Year’s shindig at Sam’s next week… this was relaxing. This weekend we can deliver the rest of our presents, I can’t wait to show everyone these damn things,” Dean says, grinning.

Castiel snuggles close, laying his toy down on Dean’s chest. “I wonder if we can get toy Dean a little pair of pink panties to wear,” he muses.

“Hey now, toy Dean isn’t the only one that likes to rock the satin. I seem to recall toy Cas being into it too.”

“True,” Castiel mumbles. He’s fading fast, and Dean sets the figures on the nightstand so they don’t squashed in the night.

“Merry Christmas, baby,” Dean says, kissing Castiel’s cheek.

Castiel sighs that happy, loving sigh of his that turns Dean’s insides to warm, happy goo. “Merry Christmas, Dean.”

 

 


End file.
